5 times tim was away because of reasons
by xiniqx
Summary: five possible reasons for Tim not being on the show. he was doing badass things elsewhere 4 times, and one time he caught the flu.


**5 Times Tim was away because of reasons**

(or: five possible reasons for Tim not being on the show. he was doing badass things elsewhere.)

* * *

><p><strong>#1 courthouse security detail<strong>

Raylan looked up from where he was sitting to see his very wet and slightly bedraggled partner in gray dress standing right in front of him. Tim usually looked relaxed, but right now he looked just plain tired. His hair was plastered to his face and he looked like he would start swaying on his feet any moment.

"Jesus," Raylan muttered and really took a good look at Tim. "Where have you been?" He offered Tim the cup of coffee he had gotten himself earlier and waited until the man had sat down.

"I have been," Tim started, enunciating the words carefully. "On the roof opposite the courthouse. All day."

It took a moment to register, but then it made sense to Raylan. He didn't even try to hide the smile on his lips when he replied, surprise in his voice, "But it's been raining all day. Why would you be-" he flinched and raised his arms defensively when Tim half-heartedly moved to smack him with a file.

"I saw you going for a sandwich. And twice for coffee," Tim added with a slightly off grin in return. "If you'd looked up, you'd have seen me waving."

"That kind of makes me uncomfortable," Raylan admitted. Even if the sniper on the roof was a friendly, being in the sight of a rifle scope was never good. Especially since he knew what rifle Tim liked to use. It was more likely that he would've looked up to see the muzzle brake and gotten a scare – a healthy scare.

Tim put a hand on his stomach. "I swear, I'm so hungry I could-"

"Tim, there you are," Art greeted his deputy from his office and got up. "Good job today," he said and handed Tim one of his favorite XL Snickers bars from the vending machine.

Tim looked up at Art like he was crazy, but accepted the chocolate bar and immediately unwrapped it. "I didn't actually do anything." The last word got swallowed when he took a bite. The court had been in uproar, news reporters had spent the day huddled under umbrellas, trying to get glimpses of the persons involved in the trial. For one day, the city had gone crazy. No wonder Tim looked tired. He and his relief had probably spent the day highly alert.

Art shook his head and mocked Tim with the look of a proud father. "You were very observant today."

Raylan chuckled. "Yeah, really good at looking at things."

"Screw you both," Tim mumbled around a mouthful of Snickers, and rubbed a hand across his face. The 'If you guys only knew,' was implied in the way he sighed. He took the cup of coffee Raylan had offered him and took a sip.

"You'll get desk duty tomorrow," Art promised.

"Please, no," Tim replied. "Let me do something. Anything."

Raylan looked at Art and shrugged. "I'll take him with me." He had planned to take Rachel to talk to her about the regulations he had been supposed to catch up on since the last meeting he had missed. Tim would be fun after a day of lying in the dirt. He always came back from security detail more grumpy than usual.

Tim looked up, interested. "Where are we going?"

"Madison, to pick up a prisoner. You can sleep during the car ride, or amuse me with stories." The only story Tim had ever told when they were sitting in a car together had ended abruptly and without an end. Although by now, knowing Tim better, Raylan could guess at the answer to the question he had asked that day.

"Ha, ha."

"Good idea," Art said. "Rachel wasn't looking forward to that anyway."

"To riding in a car with Raylan? I'm not exactly-" Tim started, but made a face when Raylan raised his eyebrows.

"If you want to catch some shut-eye tomorrow in the car, you better be careful how you finish that," Raylan warned his colleague with a raised finger. "I've got a compilation of whiny country songs and I'm not afraid to use them."

Tim pressed his lips together, eyes lazily wandering towards Art.

"There's a transport in two weeks," Art offered after a moment of contemplation. "I can try and get you on that."

"Why?" Raylan asked, suspiciously. If Art tried to make nice gestures, something was off.

"Because he has to deal with you all the time," Art replied. "Weapons transport to California. Might come with a day at the beach."

Tim grinned, the lines of exhaustion around his eyes gone with a blink. "Now that's what I call awesome detail."

Raylan rolled his eyes. "So I'm shit detail – me driving and letting you sleep. Transporting high-risk weaponry, an ambush around every corner is awesome detail. That's how you're seeing this?" He made a hand gesture waving between the two of them, implying their partnership.

Art laughed and got up. "The truth is a bitch sometimes, Raylan."

* * *

><p><strong>#2 apprehending a fugitive<strong>

"Tim's back, everybody!" Art shouted into the squad room as he left his office. He went over to Raylan and Rachel's desks and nodded at them. Quieter and to them, he added, "Taking Hale down went fine. They're taking him back already."

"Good," Rachel said and frowned. "Tim's alright?"

Art shrugged. "They say he's fine, but that he could do with a shower."

Raylan snorted, but didn't say anything. When Tim entered the squad room, he was freshly showered and shaved, and dressed in casual jeans and a T-shirt. He had his ready bag slung over his shoulder. Raylan thought he looked terrible. It took a moment for everybody to look him up and down before they spontaneously burst out in a round of applause. Mattison whistled and Raylan felt obligated to add one of his own.

Tim took a little bow and mock-saluted the squad room with a tired smile. "Thank you," he said.

When he came over to Art to pick up the chocolate bar Art was waving at him for being such a good boy, Raylan couldn't help himself. "Tim, where've you been?"

Tim groaned and sank into the chair across from Raylan's. After a moment, he leaned forward and looked his partner in the eyes. "Well, Deputy Marshal Givens, I've just spent a week in the woods, somewhere between here and one state over, tracking a fugitive."

"Edgar J. Hale," Rachel added, loving where this was going.

"Exactly. Edgar Hale. During whose pursuit I almost got bitten by a snake. No coffee for a week. Just enough MREs to get me through. But most importantly, I wrestled a badger for a pinecone to shove up your ass when I get back. As you very well know."

Raylan had to laugh out loud when Tim actually produced a pinecone from his bag and presented it to him. He took it and set it down on the desk in front of him. He'd think of a place to put it. "Making us proud," he said.

Art seemed to agree and unwrapped the Snickers bar for Tim before handing it over. "Here, eat something." He narrowed his eyes. "Your cheekbones are making me a little uncomfortable."

Rachel made a face, to Raylan's amusement. She obviously agreed, but didn't want to look at her partner that way. "We all knew you were attractive before, but I think I just saw Boorman's secretary faint."

"That bad?" Tim asked and reached for his face. "I took MREs, but I didn't think the hunt would be that long. I think it's the lack of coffee that got to me before everything else."

"Actually, I've never had one of those," Raylan admitted. "An MRE. I just hear they're terrible."

"I haven't got any left, unfortunately. Ran out two days ago." Tim got up. "Which is why I just came here to let you know I'm back. I'm going out for lunch. Does anyone want to come with?"

Art, Rachel, and Raylan all raised their hands. "We want to hear everything," Rachel said.

"Think of it as an oral report. I'll bring a tape recorder. You won't have to write it down."

Rachel grinned. "I bet we can get Boorman's secretary to type it up for you. She really did seem smitten earlier."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you can see the humor in my crawling through the woods for a week. I didn't do much but crawl and brush spider webs out of my face."

They all knew that wasn't true, but knew better than to say so. The Marshal service almost never sent a single man into the field like that. But when that single man was a Ranger and had spent unconfirmed time behind enemy lines, suddenly the service saw the whole thing a little more lax. Art had cursed when Tim had suggested it. Tim had just smiled the way he always did, seeing everything easy. He wasn't worried, so he didn't understand why anyone else would be. Raylan knew how Art felt. He hadn't slept well last week either.

Art shrugged. "Beats the hell out of one of Raylan's tales of how he got himself into another mess."

"You didn't," Tim started, looking at his partner. "I'm gone one week and you manage to make a new enemy?"

"We'll give you the news over lunch," Rachel said. "Although you've been the subject of most of the watercooler gossip for the past week. Everyone was rooting for you."

Mattison came over, his team following because they obviously wanted to see the exchange that was going to take place, and held out a twenty with two fingers. "You earned it," he said and grinned. "Doing so good, getting him first, before all the others. As if you knew we were counting on you."

Tim licked his lips and took the twenty. "Twenty. Why do I get the suspicion that the pool was a lot bigger than that."

Mattison nodded. "It was. My pool. You could've set up the pool before you left, then you would've gotten more. But you didn't." The rest of Mattison's team behind him chuckled. "Have a big juicy steak on me." He pulled out a wad of bills and counted out another ten. "In fact, add a potato to that juicy steak."

Art looked at the money and then at Raylan. "Deputy Marshal Givens, isn't gambling like that illegal?"

"I think it just might be," Raylan helped Art out and got up. Rachel was grinning next to him when Tim showed her the money. She put on her jacket and Raylan knew by the way she smiled that she had been in on that pool. He turned to Mattison again, reached out and licked his fingers, counting another thirty off the wad of bills Mattison was holding. "That should cover lunch," he said and pulled the money from Mattison's fingers. "Thank you."

"Well done, Gutterson," Mattison said sincerely then and nodded. "We knew you'd get him."

Art, Rachel, and Raylan all had to agree with that. "We did. You're balancing out the deeds Raylan does pulling the reputation of this office down."

"Oh ho," Tim countered and took a few steps back in the direction of the door. Art and Rachel followed. Raylan went last, putting his hat on with a smile. "Listen to the man, Raylan," Tim said when Raylan looked up.

Raylan followed his team, grumbling. "Yeah, yeah, you're a star." Secretly, he was pleased that Tim was feeling so good after that job. Not sleeping properly for a week, hunting someone down, completely alone in the woods – Raylan knew he couldn't have done it and made it look as easy as Tim did.

* * *

><p><strong>#3 tactical operations as part of an SOG<strong>

Art was at the office, looking through his files when the phone rang.

"Your guy is good," someone said on the other line without introducing himself. It took Art a moment to realize who the man was talking about – and then who the person was who was speaking.

"Henricks," he said. "I'm glad you think so, too."

The line crackled. "He was the one who took the shot," Henricks said then. "I looked at the footage, and the way he goes, man, he's a spitfire."

Art nodded. "He doesn't miss," he repeated what Tim had told him a while ago. His deputy may not have been good at basketball, and his handwriting really was barely legible, but he certainly didn't miss.

"My guys want him."

"Well, you can't have him," Art replied and sat up straighter. Outside in the squad room, Raylan caught his eye. Art shook his head and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "When do we get him back?"

Henricks hummed on the other end. "He drove off back to Lexington about ten minutes ago." After a moment of silence, he added, "There will be an inquest, just to-"

"He doesn't have to be worried, though, because his shooting was just," Art stated, interrupting the other man. He hated sitting around and waiting for some lawyers to decide one of his deputies' fate.

"Of course not."

* * *

><p><strong>#4 helping out training Rangers as a Ranger Instructor during a fake firefight.<strong>

When Tim got back to the office after two weeks off, Raylan was actually surprised to see his partner look so happy.

"I've been doing maneuvers for two weeks," Tim reported. He smiled. "And I shot in some really nice rifles."

"You're a kid," Raylan realized. "You're a dangerous kid in a gun store."

Tim nodded. "I'm not sure there are any adults around to stop me."

Raylan tilted his head. "Well, you do have a black eye," he said and pointed at the ring on Tim's left eye. "Apparently someone tried."

"Tried," Tim said. After a moment, he sighed. "And won, actually."

Raylan grinned. "So you're not the best Ranger out there."

Tim hung his head. "As much as it pains me to admit that."

"So, shooting in rifles? I didn't know you do that."

"Sometimes," Tim replied. "It's fun to shoot in new rifles. Try a new weapon or bullet. I'm not saying it's what I'd like to do, but…"

"How did you get to become a temporary," Raylan made a rolling hand motion because he had no idea what to call them.

"A Ranger Instructor?"

"Yeah. Is it like jury duty? Every Ranger has to go at some point and show the rookies how it's really done?"

Tim shook his head, grinning. "No, nothing like that. A friend of mine does that and he got sick and thought I'd enjoy it."

Raylan didn't have to ask why. Tim had been stressed with the job lately. A vacation, doing maneuvers in the woods to remind him what he was best at, was probably the best way to set him straight again. It was better than seeing Tim hand in his resignation to do another tour. Art had told Raylan that he was worried Tim was going to do that.

"Well, I'm happy for you."

"They don't want me as an actual instructor," Tim admitted. It sounded like he was relieved about that.

Raylan grinned, but pretended to be surprised. He didn't think Tim would seriously want to be one. He belonged in the field, not on a Ranger base somewhere in Georgia.

"Yeah, apparently I'm too laconic. RIs need to be fierce."

Raylan laughed. "Well, I guess you just don't have anything to prove to anyone."

Tim snorted. "They actually told me to just wing them so they'd still have some students left. I'm not quite sure if they'll ask me back."

Raylan patted Tim's shoulder. "It depends on whether we'll let you go next time." He meant that in more ways than one. They didn't want to let him go. Should Tim ever want to leave, they wouldn't make it easy for him. They worried about each other, he had learned a while ago. He was worried about Rachel sometimes, too, and about Art. But maybe that's what it was all about. He wasn't worried about his father in any way like that. But looking at Tim and the way he sat down lighter than he had a couple of weeks ago, told Raylan that one could choose whom to hold close. Family had nothing to do with that.

* * *

><p><strong>#5 taking an actual sick day<strong>

"I'm not coming in today," Tim told Art. He was half lying, half sitting in the bathroom, trying to figure out how to get back to the bedroom without having to resort to crawling.

"You don't sound like you should," Art told him. Tim could hear him frown over the phone as if he was trying to figure out how to ask whether it was a hangover or a real sickness. There was something in his voice. "Everything alright?"

"Not sure yet," Tim replied. "I think I have a fever. I've been throwing up since three in the morning."

"Please stay home," Art advised. "Mattison has the same thing. Might've caught it from him."

So the 'something' in his voice was concern. That actually felt nice, Tim thought before he started to feel funny again. "Tell him to hide when I get back. This is- I gotta go," Tim mumbled and hit disconnect before propping himself up on the toilet bowl again. It was not looking good.

At the office, Art put down the receiver and stepped out of his office.

"Tim's down with the stomach flu."

Raylan made a face. "Sounds like nasty business."

Art nodded. "How about you go over there later and see if he needs anything."

"Why me? I'm not going anywhere near the virus-spewing idiot. He picked it up, he can wait it out."

Art took a deep breath. "Yes, but he's also alone over there."

"He's a Ranger," Raylan countered. "He's probably subdued the virus by now by sheer strength of guts."

They both made a face at the unintentional pun. "Right," Art said then. "Just check if he's alright. You can even stay in the doorway. Just shout inside."

"I can do that."


End file.
